Expatriate
by Chiroptera Jones
Summary: When it was all over and his world was in ashes, Yanzin 849 of the Sulp Niar pool chose to remain on Earth. Can he remain unchanged, and what purpose does his life have now? An exploration of the life of one of the yeerk nothlits remaining on Earth. Contains all OCs, rated T for coarse language and possible adult themes.
1. A New Life

**Chapter 1 - A New Life**

Sometimes Yanzin thought he'd made the wrong decision when he chose to become human and remain on Earth, instead of returning to the homeworld under the watchful eyes of the Andalite fleet. Other times he was certain that he'd made the right one. Most of the time, though, he didn't know what he thought.

Yanzin missed his body. That might sound strange, to some people – Yanzin had known many yeerks who complained excessively about the limitations of their unhosted selves. He had never thought it was healthy.

Small and weak, it had nevertheless been his body. He'd spent the majority of his time in a host body not so different from what he had now, that was true, but the host's limbs had just been an extension of himself, not a replacement. Now there was no barrier between his real self and his 'host body', and it made him uncomfortable. Sometimes he felt as if he didn't even have a real self any more.

He tried not to dwell on it.

But he missed the pool. He missed the safety and security of it, the enveloping warmth, the feeling of being surrounded by everything that you needed to survive. He missed the almost effortless three-dimensional movement through the throngs of his fellow yeerks. He missed the soothing chorus of whistles, chirrups and ringing notes that always filled the pool as people spoke to each other. He missed the feeling of soaking up Kandrona. He missed it all.

On this particular afternoon, he was walking to work. He liked to do that; he felt better about things when he could feel wind on his face, see clouds and flowers and birds, feel the pleasant ache of leg muscles at the top of a hill. All of them things he would have had to give up, if he'd elected to stay as his true self.

He thought idly about what he would be doing now, if he had. He supposed he would be back on the home planet by now. Back to the pools, under lock and key. Nothing to do but swim and talk. No more cacophonous, terrifying battles to throw himself into with no guarantee he'd come out the other end; no more flying; no more walking and seeing. No more going through the motions of a life that wasn't really his. No more things to build or schedules to make or grand plans to set into motion.

There would still be Vissers, though. There were _always _Vissers. If those homeworld pools weren't already filled with more scheming and power-playing than the Andalites could measure, Yanzin would be very surprised indeed. There was probably a new Council of Thirteen – no, probably several, Yanzin corrected himself.

He wondered what the homeworld yeerks thought. The ones who had never left. He'd never met any of them.

In any case, Yanzin was certain that he would have been unbearably bored. And, still, unbearably lonely - he doubted he could have escaped that, no matter what choice he made. No amount of other yeerks could replace what he'd lost... or at least it felt that way. Yanzin knew it wasn't rational of him, but he couldn't help it. He could not imagine other friends.

Lost in his thoughts and in the melody of a particular bird that was floating across the morning, Yanzin didn't realise he was being followed across the car park and around into the alley between two buildings. He really should have known better. He had just enough time to register footsteps behind him, before a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"I've seen you around a fair bit," the man who'd spun him said, grabbing his shirt. "What's your name again?"

"None of your business," Yanzin said, even though he knew it was pointless.

"I bet we can guess," the other man said. "It's got numbers in it, right?"

"You're not welcome here, slug," a third said.

So. Three of them. It didn't really occur to Yanzin to think it was unfair, but he did feel a cowardly trembling of fear. This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened; the last time had been pretty bad, but this was possibly going to be worse.

He didn't wait for them to get tired of their threats; the best defence against the creeping fear was to just cut past it all and throw a blow at the one holding his shirt. The man swore and let go. Yanzin swung his elbow into the face of one of the men behind him, kicked at someone else, aimed another blow...

Yanzin did know something about fighting – although most of his had been done as a hork bajir controller. He no longer had any weapons, though, and there were three of them anyway, so his efforts were more or less pointless. They left him lying against the wall, a dizzy ball of pain. He thought he heard one of them say "And that's for...", but he didn't catch the name that followed.

Once he was sure they were gone, he gathered his wits and sat up. His head was spinning, and it didn't seem like it was going to stop. Everything hurt. _The pain is not yours_, he reminded himself out of habit, pushing it away. _It is only the host. You are not hurt. The pain is not important. _Thinking of it in that way had always helped. But of course, then he remembered that this pain actually _was_ his, and it was his permanent body that had been damaged. He couldn't push it away then.

Not actually as bad as the last time, he told himself. It didn't really help. One of these days he was going to get killed, he just knew it, and quite probably nobody would even care.

What was he going to do now? It was hard to think. He couldn't just sit here. He wouldn't be able to get all the way back to the apartment, he managed to reason. Therefore, he should keep going and get to work.

His left wrist ached sharply, and between that and his dizziness, it was very difficult to get to his feet. He realised that he couldn't see properly; everything was fuzzy. He supposed it would pass.

He stumbled on towards work. Luckily he didn't have very far to go, but as he walked, he began to be seriously afraid that he'd taken permanent damage. The dizziness wasn't going away, and neither was the fuzziness.

He reached the back entrance. In a moment or so he'd have to go in, he supposed; he hadn't really thought about anything beyond getting here.

The door swung open, and a person came out.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed when he saw Yanzin. "What happened to you?"

Yanzin squinted at him, and thought he recognised him as a co-worker. It was the cheerful one; a short young man with floppy brown hair. Yanzin didn't know his name. "I was attacked," he said. "Obviously. If you could open the door for me, that would be nice. I really need to sit down."

"Shit," the man said, taking him in with round eyes as he swayed. "You look like you're about to collapse." He moved forward and sort of hovered, as if he wanted to offer a shoulder but wasn't sure it was such a good idea. He knew what Yanzin was, of course. That news hadn't taken any time at all to spread. Humans gossiped just as much as yeerks did, and with even less purpose. "And you're bleeding."

"Yes. I know," Yanzin snapped. "If you aren't going to help, go away."

"Um," the young man said, looking at him. "I think you need a doctor. Do you have a car?"

OOO

"I'm James Michelson, by the way," the young man said. "Call me James. I don't think we've really met. Your last name's down as 'Sulp Niar', right?"

Yanzin grunted. Water dribbled down his elbow and soaked into his knee as he sat in the front seat of James Michelson's car - he held a leaky zip-lock bag full of ice cubes to his forehead with his right hand. It wasn't really helping. "Yes. Pool name."

"You still dizzy?"

"Yes."

"Still can't see?"

"No."

"Shit. Well. I'm sure you're fine."

Yanzin closed his eyes. He wasn't sure of any such thing. Wouldn't it be miserable to be stuck in a permanently damaged body, on top of everything else? James had peered at his eyes nervously and muttered something about a concussion. He did remember a starburst of pain as his head had hit the brick wall. He thought he had been blind for a second there.

"So, Mr Sulp – look, that name's kind of unwieldy," James said apologetically. "Do you have a first name you wouldn't mind me using?"

Yanzin resettled the ice pack. "There's no need. Just say 'yeerk' or 'slug' and I'll know you're addressing me."

James sighed. "Mr Sulp Niar it is, I guess," he said. "Do people really – Never mind. Does this happen a lot to you?"

Yanzin took the icepack off his head, where it wasn't doing any good anyway, and put it on his left wrist. "It has happened before, yes." He stared out the windshield, watching the blurry coloured lights zooming past.

"I – I'm sorry. I guess."

Sorry? Yanzin thought scathingly. Don't lie because you think it's polite. You aren't sorry.

"I guess people are still angry," James said, in such a stupidly thoughtful way that it made Yanzin want to hit him. "It hasn't been all that long, you know."

Yanzin let out a furious breath. "Yes. They are," he said. "And it hasn't."


	2. Nostalgia

**Chapter Two - Nostalgia**

"Yanzin. I told you to go shopping today."

"What?" Yanzin said irritably. He was sitting in the small communal living room of the unit where he lived. It would be a bit much to call it a 'home', really, because Yanzin wasn't very fond of either the building or the people he had to share it with. He turned around to look at Minsath, awkwardly resting his one good arm on the back of the couch.

"Turn that stupid music off, Yanzin, I'm talking to you."

Reluctantly, Yanzin bent and switched off the shiny black CD player by his feet. He did enjoy some types of human music. It was soothing. He would never have attempted to explain that to Minsath, though - she would stare him down with imperious eyes and probably despise him for the rest of their interactions.

"What is it?" he said.

"You were supposed to go to the store and buy food today," Minsath repeated. "You didn't."

Yanzin sighed and let his head fall back against the cushions. "I forgot. I think it's understandable."

"Forgot!" She was livid. "What do you mean you _forgot_?"

"I just – it just didn't occur to me. I'm sorry."

"Well!" Minsath said sarcastically. "I'm sure we can rest easy, knowing that if Yanzin doesn't do something it's only because he _forgot_. It's not as if he has anything more important to be doing."

Her human morph was short, with smooth black hair and snapping dark eyes. He hadn't known her at all before morphing to human - he thought they had assigned people to dwellings more or less randomly.

"I'm _sorry_," Yanzin said. "It's difficult for me to carry things anyway." He lifted up his arm, encased in the white plaster cast, and waved it at her. "Why couldn't you do it?"

"Because I told you to do it."

"Yes, but why? It would be much easier for you to do it," Yanzin said. He didn't know why he was pressing the issue. You never won arguments with Minsath.

He wished that they'd just been allowed to live alone. Of course, that would have been more dwellings for them to find, so it was easier to randomly place them in groups of three or four in a family house. He could appreciate that it was much more efficient this way. That didn't make Minsath any less aggravating.

"I don't see why I should have to pick up the slack because you've incapacitated yourself," she said now. "Like the fool you are. Idiot."

This was a sentiment he'd heard a couple of times already. "Just drop it, will you?" Yanzin groaned. "I'm not the only one who's been beaten up. You've dealt with this too."

"It doesn't happen to me as _much_," Minsath said pointedly. "And_ I_ walk away without managing to break my arm and get a concussion. I have to wonder if you aren't doing something stupid to attract the attention. In any case, stop trying to change the subject," she said. "You disobeyed me."

He had _disobeyed_... ugh.

The very first thing Minsath had done - dumped in this unit newly human and dazed - was to ask Yanzin and Arodin what rank they'd been. They had both been significantly lower, of course.

"Disobeyed, Minsath?" he said wearily. He should have kept quiet. He should have bowed his head and apologised and weathered her bad temper. But he was tired, and irritated, and his arm ached still, and his skin itched under the cast. He hadn't really felt safe enough to go out much except for work. He had very little patience tonight and he didn't feel like meekly apologising to her as he usually did. "So what will you do? Are you going to have me shot? Have me demoted? Are you going to report me to your superiors for punishment, Minsath?"

There was a small sound as she put down whatever she was carrying. Her voice was quiet. "What was that?"

Yanzin gritted his teeth and stood. "You heard me just fine," he said, turning around. "What are you going to do about it?"

She stared at him from across the room, her eyes narrowed. She wore black, always. Her head was cocked at an arrogant angle, still used to the days when seven-foot-tall bladed hork bajir leapt to do her bidding. The unornamented, unarmoured human clothes didn't suit her. She said nothing.

"That's what I thought," Yanzin said, lightly, after a few long moments. "Nothing. You're not going to do anything about it. Because there isn't anything you can do."

"Insubordination, is it?" she hissed. "You think you can disrespect your superiors? You think you can blatantly disregard the- "

"I have no superiors," Yanzin shot back at her.

"Oh, I understand," she said sardonically. "Authority is chafing a bit, is it? You're sick of discipline and obedience. You'd rather be like the humans, with their inane notions of equality and their idle, weak willed disorganisation! Quite the cowardly little rebel we have here!"

"_Authority_?" Yanzin said. He threw his good hand out in the air. "_What _authority? You're not a Sub-visser any more, Minsath! You _have_ no authority! You're just like me!"

"Like you?" She laughed shrilly. "No, my sad, pathetic little underling, I don't think I'll ever be like you. You're defeated. You're finished. The humans have managed to break you. You can't see the point to anything anymore and you want everybody else be like you!"

"I'm not pathetic," Yanzin said tightly. He found himself walking towards her. "You're hopelessly deluded. You pretend that you're in command here because you just can't bear the truth: that you're finished, you're a prisoner, and you only live on humanity's mercy! Just like everybody else!"

"You're a traitor," she said, stepping forward. "You betray everything we are by your weakness!"

"I'm no traitor!"

"Face it, Yanzin," she said, stabbing her finger into his chest. "You're just. Like. Them. You're weak. Your cowardice and disloyalty would bring the Yeerk Empire down!"

"The _Empire?_" Yanzin shouted. "It's already been brought down! It's dead! It's _not coming back_!"

"The Empire will never die while loyal yeerks still live!" Minsath said, her face blazing.

"You're crazy," Yanzin said. He shook his head and laughed bitterly. She was crazy. There was no point in arguing with her. "It's gone. We fought and we lost, and it's all over. It is _gone_."

He stepped back from her. She watched him with straight shoulders, her chest moving as she breathed, her hands in fists by her sides and her chin tilted up.

Yanzin backed away. He hugged his left arm to his chest; it ached dully. He hated that his voice wasn't quite steady. "I'm no traitor, because there's nothing to betray. You're not a Sub-Visser. The Empire is dead. And I'm not interested in playing along with this pathetic little re-enactment that you're clinging to."

He went to bed.

They couldn't live their lives thinking that the old days were going to come back, he told himself in the dark. What was left? Yanzin knew that a handful of ships had escaped with Kandronas on board, but the Andalite fleet was hunting those down even now. Even if they _were _to survive and threaten Andalite supremacy again, that would mean nothing for the yeerks on Earth. A reborn Empire light years away would change nothing for Yanzin.

I am not pathetic, he told himself. I am not broken. I'm just being realistic.


	3. Five years ago

**Five years ago**

The pool on the ship was crowded these days. The chatter of thousands and thousands of yeerks bounced off the metal walls; you couldn't move quickly through the upper levels without scattering people in your wake and drawing irritated complaints.

Around the edges, though, it was a little quieter. In a corner of the pool, right down near the floor, Yanzin and Trinir rested quietly beside each other. They weren't talking, nor even really thinking much, just basking in the kandrona that had managed to filter down this far.

Distantly Yanzin sensed a figure approaching them from the milling crowd up above and roused. Whoever it was, they were approaching at speed.

*Trinir, Yanzin!* Essal said as they got close enough. *I have been looking for you.*

*Yes?* Yanzin said.

Essal settled down between them, forcing them to move apart a little. *I got it!* they announced, voice thrumming with excitement.

*Got what?* Trinir asked.

*The place I wanted! The place in biotechnology! I'm on the list to start training as soon as I get a new host.*

*Congratulations!* Yanzin exclaimed, rising a little. They entwined palps briefly in friendly greeting. *I thought you were sure to get it this time.*

*I didn't think so,* Essal confessed. *I was worried that they wouldn't because I've been in combat for so long. I have already been trained up for something, why let me into a whole new field?*

*Even if the only reason you didn't change quicker is that they wouldn't let you,* Trinir grumbled. *That's great, Essal. You'll make a great scientist.*

*This means a new host species, doesn't it?* Yanzin asked. Hork-Bajir were rarely given to yeerks on scientific assignments. It would have been a waste of their capabilities, and their hands and eyes weren't exactly suited for fine work. Usually scientists got Mak or Ongachic... but then again, there was this new species they were supposedly going to.

*Yes,* Essal said. They darted away to scribe an excited circle around Trinir and Yanzin. *I hope to get one of the new ones! That would be much more interesting.*

Interesting. To Essal, 'interesting' was just about the best thing that something could be.

*Just so long as it's not a Taxxon,* Trinir said. *I'm not spending time with you in host if you get a Taxxon.*

*I'm not either,* Yanzin said.

Essal made a hurt whistling noise. *Some friends you are!*

*Sorry,* Yanzin said. *As much as I love you, it's not enough to risk getting eaten to talk to you.*

*I would not eat you,* Essal said indignantly. *I think I have better control than that!*

Underneath the good-natured jibes, Yanzin was genuinely worried about the prospect. Taxxon-controllers had such a high death rate. And they weren't very... mentally stable. It was a stressful assignment. The thought of Essal getting stuck as one of them... Essal was too intelligent for such a fate. Surely it would not happen.

*I suppose we won't see you very much, then,* Trinir said. *You have accepted and applied for the transfer out of our unit?*

*Yes,* Essal said sadly. *I don't know how I will manage without you. Or how you will manage, without me to save you both from your own bravado. After all, I'm going to a relatively safe job. You're still in combat Hork-Bajir.*

*Maybe,* Yanzin said. *The postings haven't come out yet. We don't know what we're doing. Maybe we'll get these new hosts too; they're supposed to be level five.*

*Perhaps,* Trinir agreed. *Not much point speculating until the postings go up.*

*Of course there is a point,* Essal said. *I think I'll go look them up now. Maybe read up on this new level five species some more. Will you come?*

*I suppose,* Yanzin said, humouring Essal. They rose up together; Trinir elected to stay behind. The dense, swirling cloud of yeerks swallowed them up with ease.


	4. Assistance

**Chapter 4 - Assistance**

"So." The human behind the desk shuffled the pieces of paper in front of her and looked over to cross-check against her computer screen. "You're still staying in the same place?"

"Yes."

The office was small and tidy. A nondescript picture of a beach hung in a frame on one wall; Yanzin was sitting in one of two simple chairs in front of the desk. Air-conditioning hummed and made the air feel dry and clinical. Yanzin just wanted to get this appointment over and done with.

"Still with..." She read from the file in front of her. "... Minsath 639 and Arodin 140?"

"Yes."

She gave Yanzin a level look across the desk, then sat back in the chair. The letterhead on her papers said _'Department of Alien Integration_'. "How are things going?" she prompted.

"Fine," Yanzin said. He stared straight ahead across the desk, his right hand on his knee, not deliberately making eye contact but not avoiding it either. Hopefully it was making her uncomfortable.

"Not having any problems?"

"No."

She eyed his cast. "What happened to your arm?"

"It's broken."

"I can see that," she said patiently. "How did it happen?"

"I was thrown into a wall."

She pressed her lips together and began scribbling a note on Yanzin's papers. "So, you were attacked? When did this happen?"

"Yes. A bit over a week ago."

A frown appeared between her eyebrows. "Did you go to hospital? It's not in your file, and they're supposed to inform..."

"I did." He watched her writing. "Guess they lost the paperwork." He smirked, amused. _This is just like old times_, he thought. _Nobody knows what anybody else is doing._ In human society, though, people were less likely to be tortured and/or executed due to misfiled reports. Maybe they would have fewer mistakes if they did it the Yeerkish way. He considered making this observation aloud to the woman, but decided not to.

"Did you inform the police?"

"No." Yanzin failed to see what that would have achieved. He didn't imagine that the humans in the police force or the justice system were any more kindly disposed to his kind than the average human was.

"Would you like –"

"No."

She sighed. "I really must insist on hearing the details, I'm afraid. Do you want to start at the beginning and describe what happened? Where were you?"

"No. Just leave it."

She looked exasperated. "Yanzin, we are required to report these things. How are we supposed to help you if...?"

Yanzin scowled and stood. "You can't help me with this. Even if you wanted to, which you don't, really. Have you asked all of the questions on your little sheet of paper?"

"Yes, but – "

"Then I think I can go now. Yes?" He stood waiting, staring straight ahead again.

"No," she said, suddenly stern. "Yanzin, _sit_." She pointed at the chair.

Yanzin shifted his gaze to stare down at her. So this was what he was reduced to? Taking orders from a pathetic human professional busybody?

"I have had just about enough of you," she told him. "Helping you is difficult enough as it is, but every single one of you yeerks that I've dealt with today seems to have their heart set on making as much trouble as possible. You will sit and you will cooperate, like you agreed to do when we let you stay on Earth."

Yanzin clenched his teeth. What could she really do to him? The human disciplinary system was practically toothless. He doubted he'd get any sort of serious penalty just for disobeying this pen-pusher.

_You used to be better than this_, an inner voice told him. He sat down.

"Thank you," she said, her voice softening. "Start at the beginning, please."

Yanzin sighed and recounted the event, as briefly and clinically as possible. The woman took notes and made a small tsk-tsk noise when he was finished.

He was so tired of this – of her and people like her pretending that they cared, wanting to know anything and everything about his life. The humans kept tabs on all of them – where they lived, what jobs they had. It was surprising Yanzin had as much freedom as he did. It was actually more freedom than he'd had his whole adult life.

He ought to be grateful.

"I'll report this for you," she said.

What did she want, thanks? "If that's all, I'd like to leave now," Yanzin said.

"Just a minute." She sat back and looked at him. "Do you have anything else you wanted to talk about, Yanzin? Any problems, any developments? Met anybody new?"

"Not really."

"It's only that you've been assigned to me for the last year, and I don't think anything at all in your circumstances has changed in that time." She glanced at the screen. "Except for incidents like this one."

Yanzin kept his face blank.

She sighed and hit a key on the keyboard sharply. "That's all. Remember, your next appointment is on the third. Until next time, Yanzin."

He didn't say goodbye. He stuffed his free hand in his pocket as he walked through the waiting room. Someone else was sitting there; an apparently human youth slouched sullenly in one of the chairs. She and Yanzin made eye contact briefly as he passed. He didn't smile and nor did she, but she nodded in acknowledgement.

He took the train out of the city. Much to his annoyance, the integration officer's words had managed to get under his skin. He didn't need or want her pity.

_Nothing in your circumstances has changed_. He ran over the words in his mind as he watched the scenery slip past the train window. _It's been how long now? Two years?_ Two years since his whole world had fallen, in more ways than one. _Has it really been that long?_ '_Nothing in your circumstances has changed'... _

What was he _supposed_ to have changed? Sure, he supposed he could have got a better job than he currently had. But what was the point to that? He wouldn't enjoy it any more, and he wouldn't be any better at it. The truth was, Yanzin didn't think he had any skills that would be very useful in this new post-war world.

He could change where he lived. Maybe that was an idea. Still seemed pretty pointless, though.

"Hey! Um, Sulp Niar dude! It is you, right?"

Yanzin turned his head, startled. Who on earth would be...?

James was standing in the aisle at the end of the carriage, waving at him. He saw Yanzin's face and smiled. "Oh, it is you! Sulp Niar, right?"

"You've got to be joking," Yanzin muttered as James came down the carriage, dumped two large plastic shopping bags on the seat behind him, and fell into the seat beside Yanzin. Yanzin moved his arm out of James' way automatically.

"Been shopping on my way home," James said, breathlessly. "Hi."

Yanzin stared at him. "What?"

James' smile faltered. "You recognise me, right? I didn't think your head was that out of whack..."

"My head is fine," Yanzin said. "I know you. I just don't know why you're sitting next to me."

The smile reappeared. "I wanted to ask how you were," James said. "I just _left _you at the hospital, and I haven't seen you at work. So... Broken?" He pointed at Yanzin's cast. He had made noises about staying the other night, but Yanzin had thanked him brusquely and walked away.

"Why do people keep asking that?" Yanzin said. "No. I wear the cast because it's so much fun. Yes, it's broken. And yes, I had a minor concussion, in addition to a number of other minor injuries. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"You're OK now, right?"

Yanzin nodded slightly.

"Wow, it's awful, you know, you getting attacked like that," James said. "Kind of scary. I didn't think our area was that bad for that sort of thing, you know?"

_Scary? Don't be ridiculous,_ Yanzin thought. _It's perfectly safe for _you.

"I still feel kind of bad about not staying with you," James went on. "How did you even get home? I should've stuck around at least until I knew you were OK. It wasn't a problem, like with work or anything."

Yanzin was beginning to regret allowing James to approach him, although he wasn't sure exactly he could have done to stop it. Well, what he could have done that was appropriate, anyway.

"I managed," he said vaguely. He'd had to call Minsath to pick him up; she was the only one of them with a car. That hadn't been a fun conversation, or a fun drive home.

"I told Alex where you were and everything, I hope that's OK," James said. "Concussion, huh? Damn."

"Only a very minor one."

"Still, that's awful. I've never had a concussion before. Are you sure you should be around and about?"

"It's gone _now_," Yanzin said. "I'm fine."

"Ah, I see. That's good."

James finally lapsed into silence. He turned and rummaged around in his shopping bags for a while, and Yanzin returned to looking out the window. He found himself returning to the integration officer's words again. It was true: he had done nothing for the last two years. Even she could tell. Maybe _everyone_ could tell. He thought of Minsath's words: _The humans have managed to break you._

"Oh, hey, Sulp Niar..." James stumbled over the name again. "What stop do you get off at?"

"Yanzin," Yanzin said irritably.

"Huh?"

He sighed. "It's Yanzin. My name."

The human grinned and stuck his hand out like he wanted Yanzin to shake it, and then looked at his cast and put it down. "Yanzin? Cool. James."

Yanzin wondered if maybe he _was_ broken. Was this what being broken felt like? He'd had a broken host before, so he really should be able to tell. Somehow everything was a lot more complicated looking at it from the inside.

He considered himself seriously. Perhaps he was.


End file.
